(The Story Thus Far: Born out of wedlock in 1929, Merritt Lane McGraw has spent nearly all of his first five years with his mother while she worked as a live-in maid and nanny for a wealthy young widow and her two daughters. Merritt’s mother, Evelyn, found herself in a torrid love affair with Viola Buckner, her employer, while the women’s daughters loved to treat Merritt as a little girl. Merritt was becoming more and more like a girl. To escape the demanding sexual encounters with her employer (which Evelyn feels is sinful) and to take her son away from the feminine atmosphere of the estate, Evelyn left the Buckners and returned home to live with her parents. She soon married Bob Casey, the library clerk and former high school classmate, and they have moved into a second floor apartment above a craft and sewing supply store. Merritt’s days of enjoying “girl time” appear to have ended now that there’s a man in the house.

(Merritt’s stepfather has gone off to war, and was killed in the terrible battle of Tarawa in November, 1943, posthumously being awarded the Navy Cross. Merritt’s mother meantime has taken a job in a war plant making parachutes, and Merritt takes over her dress-making business, which he finds to be a natural fit. Now a high school student, he finds comfort only in being a girl, but still seeks to fit in as a boy.

(Merritt has ventured out as a girl, and his natural femininity attracts the eyes of high school boys as well as a high school girl, with whom he goes to bed. Their innocence — typical for youth of that period — makes for limited sexual experiences, but with much passion, girl-to-girl.

(Yet, he tries to fit in as a boy, believing his hopes of ever living as a girl in the 1940s and1950s would be nearly impossible. His growing femininity has brought him into more adventures as a girl, confusing him even more as he tries to fit in at school. Meanwhile, he has worked secretly as a seamstress for a shop and his talents have drawn much business to the store. In high school, he has chosen secretarial courses, one of the few boys ever in the class.)

Chapter 21: The Mardi Gras Party and Merritt’s Lenten Promise
Merritt, too, looked more closely at God and began taking mass and his prayers more seriously. He had never really thought of himself as religious, in fact had wondered often whether the Catholic Church and all its glitter and ceremony was nothing but a major con job on people. Yet, the devastation of the War had raised his consciousness to the complexities of life, the cruelty of man to man and the lack of promise in the world.

He considered putting a complete halt to his dressing as his Lenten penance, but his mother informed him that Viola was planning a Mardi Gras party on Maundy Tuesday for women only, and she invited Evelyn and Marilyn to come. Dolores and Beth would be there, and Merritt suspected that Beth’s girl friend, Billie, would be there too.

By now, Merritt became aware that the women, including his mother, were likely homosexual, or at least bisexual. The parties held by Mrs. Buckner were for such women, and it was obvious that there would be sexual overtones. Merritt had heard of “free love,” a lifestyle that began a decade earlier in such exotic places as Paris and Manhattan and San Francisco, but only recently had found a toehold in the Midwest, and then only behind drawn curtains in private homes.

“I don’t think I should go, mom,” Merritt said. “I’m trying to give up being Marilyn for Lent.”

“Oh, come on, you’ll have fun,” Evelyn said. “Beth I know wants you there. You don’t have to dress up too girlish.”

Merritt worried, too, about how he’d respond to Dolores after their awkward boy-girl date of several weeks earlier. The two had not even talked on the phone since then; he queried Donna Mae as to whether Dolores mentioned him during their own conversations at Angels Academy. He was surprised to learn Dolores said nothing.

“No mom,” he said resolutely.

“Ok,” she said, not willing to push the matter. “But they’ll miss you hon.”

He knew his mother, too, had been concerned that her acceptance of Merritt’s girlish behavior may end up causing the boy terrible consequences as he began to enter the world of men.

“Well,” he said finally. “Since Lent doesn’t start ‘til tomorrow, I guess I can.”

*****
Merritt chose a saucy peasant-girl outfit for Viola’s party. The full print white skirt with loud lavender and red and yellow designs flowed from a tight, heavy black belt, topped by a lavender blouse with ballooning sleeves, a plunging square bodice. After he put the dress on, he let his hair flow freely.

“Mom,” he said vaulting from his bedroom into hers as she was preparing to ready herself, “Look, I’m Carmen.”

“Oh my yes,” she said, turning around as she stood dressed only in a slip. “The cigarette girl from the opera.”

“All I need is a rose in my teeth,” he giggled.

Merritt did a few quick pirouettes ending up hugging his mother tightly. It was a moment of sheer joy, which briefly relieved the tension of the coming evening when he’d have to again meet Dolores. He wanted so much to hug the girl, to resume their warm times together as girls; yet, he knew that may never again happen.

*****
“Marilyn, my lovely Marilyn,” Viola gushed as Merritt and his mother came in from the slushy February evening, leaning over to take off their boots.

“Here, honey, sit here, and let me help you.” It was Beth, Viola’s daughter. She rushed over to lead Merritt and his mother to a bench in the foyer, especially set up for visitors to remove their boots.

Beth took their coats, handing them to a young woman, obviously a maid, who walked off with the coats. Beth knelt down before Merritt, offering to accept a leg to assist in taking off the boots.

“Thanks, Beth, these are so tight,” he said, gladly holding out his leg.

Beth took his right leg, and began to pull off the boot, looking up at him. “Just as lovely as ever, my dear,” she said.

“Yes, I love her outfit. It’s so sassy.” Merritt looked up to see it was Billie, Beth’s longtime girl friend, who was commenting.

Merritt felt the woman was leering at him. Billie was in mannish garb, a suitcoat and slacks; her hair was trimmed short, and fixed tightly against her head. Her voice was husky.

Merritt smiled up at her, and Billie returned a quick wink. He quickly averted the look, looking down at Beth, who in tugging to get the boot off had missed the interchange.

Finally, the boot was off, and Beth looked up at her friend, a scowl communicating disgust with Billie’s innuendoes toward Merritt. It was a look that could hardly be mistaken as anything but one made out of jealousy. Merritt recalled the tentative advances the muscular Billie had made to him during the New Years Eve Party.

*****
It was with mixed emotions that Merritt awaited Dolores’ arrival to the party, apprehension at how the girl would react and worried even more at his own response. Would she welcome him warmly, now that he was back as “Marilyn?” Or, would she snub him, perhaps not even talk to him? After their troubled date, he had not tried to call her, fearful of her reaction. He hated his shy and tentative behavior: would he ever have the courage to face up to a personal rebuff?

As expected, Dolores Graham and her mother were the last to arrive, their entrance greeted with a blast of cold, damp air as they entered.

Merritt could see into the foyer, catching a glimpse of Dolores, who was untying her scarf, a babushka that gave her a peasant look that was surprisingly cute and appealing. And, to his joy, Dolores looked at him, seeing him again as Marilyn, and her face lit up. She gave a modest wave of the scarf in his direction. He smiled, and moved over on the couch, as if to open up a space for Dolores once she got her coat and boots off.

“Marilyn,” Dolores said, rushing to the space he opened up between himself and his mother and giving him a sisterly kiss as she sat.

“Hi Dolores,” he said simply, smoothing his skirt as he sat. “You look very cute tonight.”

“You think so? Really?”

Merritt could see the girl flush with embarrassment; he knew she always thought of herself as an ugly duckling, largely due to her athletic body and rather plain looks. He, however, always thought of her as beautiful with her plain, unadorned face, rarely with any makeup.

“Oh yes, that outfit looks so nice on you,” Evelyn said, sitting on the other side of Dolores and overhearing the two.

“It’s one that Marilyn insisted I buy when we went shopping that day. I love it. She has taught me so much about wearing pretty clothes.”

The dress was a one-piece halter style of soft cotton in a dark violet color, without any trim. If flowed gracefully to below her knee, and was belted. She wore flats, coffee-colored stockings and a short white knit sweater.

“My daughter always has the best taste in clothes,” Evelyn said.

“Yes, she does, Mrs. McGraw,” Dolores said.

The group played charades most of the evening, which ended before 11 p.m., since the following day was Ash Wednesday, and most would be going to mass and it was a workday for Evelyn and Mrs. Graham both.

“I like you better as Marilyn,” Dolores told Merritt when they snuck off to the den to finish their punch. The two drank non-alcoholic beverages, while the older women were into Tom Collins and Martinis, which had become popular in the 1920s and 30s.

“Me too,” he smiled, as they sat together on a love seat in the den, holding hands.

They hugged each other and kissed, this time with far more passion than they did on their date; Merritt felt his penis grow hard as he surrendered his body into her strong grasp. He loved being held firmly by the girl, feeling weak and defenseless in her arms.

“Dolores,” he said, after the two separated to take sips from their drinks. “I’d love to make you a dress for your prom.”

“Really, but I don’t know if anybody will ask me to the prom,” she said.

“Don’t you girls at Angel’s sometimes ask the boys, since you’re an all girls’ school?”

“Yes, but I’d feel so weird doing that. Who’d want to go with me?”

“I’ll make you look so pretty,” he said, smiling. “And it you don’t want to ask anyone, I’d take you, if you’d have me.”

“Would you?” she beamed.

“I could be your boy friend and secret girl friend all in one body,” he said, giving out with a giggle.

She drew him to her, and they shared playful kisses, giggling quietly.

Dolores agreed that she’d stop by Swenson’s so Merritt could make the measurements in the next week and so they could look at patterns together.

“That’ll be so much fun,” she said.

“I want to do it so badly for you, Dolores,” he said. “It’ll be a gift from me to you.”

“Oh, I can’t accept that, Marilyn,” she said. “I’ll figure out how to pay somehow.”

Merritt knew Dolores’ family was not wealthy and couldn’t afford the full price of a custom made dress. Finally, he suggested that she could pay for the materials, and he’d provide his labor as a gift.

After that was settled, he said, his voice taking on a serious tone: “Now I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, this sounds ominous,” she said.

He paused for a moment, finally saying, “This is my last night as Marilyn.”

“What?” she said, alarm in her voice.

“For Lent, I’m giving up being Marilyn, or even dressing up as a girl,” he said, tears forming in his eyes.

“You’re serious about that?” she asked, amazed. “I saw you as Merritt, and I like Marilyn better.”

He said nothing, and resumed the hug, trying to hold back tears. It felt like he was burying part of himself, that Marilyn was being murdered.

“Oh honey, I know this is weird, but you really are a girl,” she continued.

He began sobbing and laid his head upon her breasts and she held him tightly, feeling his body throb in his silent crying. He felt so protected in her arms.

The door opened, and in walked Beth and her friend Billie.

“What’s this?” Beth demanded.

“Marilyn here tells me she’s going to quit being a girl,” Dolores said.

“What?” Beth said, not believing what she heard.

“You can’t, Marilyn,” Billie said, rushing to engulf both Dolores and Merritt in her arms.

“Why, Marilyn?” Beth demanded. “Dry your tears now, and tell your Bethie.”

Merritt pulled himself away from the hugs, and accepted the hanky provided by Dolores, wiping his tears, rubbing some of the foundation and rouge from his face.

“I’ve got to realize I have to live as a man,” he said simply. “There’s no choice, otherwise I’ll never get a job and support myself. Mother can’t always support me.”

He explained that he and his mother had fully discussed this, and he came to the conclusion that he was going to strengthen his body, become more masculine and do well in school.

“My family and my grandparents nearly starved during the depression,” he said. “I’m scared, and I’m not strong like other boys. How can I ever work?”

The three argued with him, pointing out how talented he was as a seamstress; or, they said he could be a fashion designer; and, also, they said he could become a male secretary. There’d be jobs out there.

“Aren’t you doing well in that secretarial class?” Dolores asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I guess I’m the fastest typist, and I’m picking up taking dictation real fast.”

“There, you see,” commented Beth.

“But, I’m the only boy in the class,” he protested.

“Too bad you can’t live as a woman,” Billie said, giving Merritt a barely noticeable wink , turning her face so that Beth wouldn’t see it.

But, Merritt said he had made up his mind. He’d work hard at playing tennis, maybe win a letter. He’d start lifting weights, he said, so he could work in the factory or do construction. He’d quit his seamstress work, and maybe work at the country club in groundskeeping.

As it turned out, that night was Marilyn’s last night out, at least for now. When would she venture out again, I ever?

*****
He went to the 7 a.m. Ash Wednesday mass the next morning, kneeling primly at the altar rail as he awaited for Father James Mulcahy to get to him, watching out of the corner of his eye as the priest went down the altar rail, placing his ash and oil thumb on each penitent’s forehead. Merritt made sure his longish hair was pulled back from his forehead, making it easy for the priest to administer the mark.

If he had realized it, Merritt would have known his posture would have been that of a young lady, sweet and quietly prayerful. Somehow, he had told himself, he must now assume a most angelic demeanor, and he prayed long and hard to receive the intercession of God to assist him in living a more saintly life. He had taken to saying the rosary daily, a 20 —minute process in which he tried, often vainly, to repeat the decades of “Hail Mary’s” and the intermittent “Our Father’s” in a soft voice. So often his mind would wander, often to a vision in which he was a lovely, lithe angel in a flowing gown and long blond hair, approaching a heaven framed in white fluffy clouds when the Lord would greet him with the words, “Welcome sister.”

The dream was filling his mind as Father Mulcahy reached him, with Pete O’Brien, an altar boy whom Merritt knew, holding the urn of ashes.

Father Mulcahy, slowed his machine-like administering of ashes to the foreheads of the parishioners, pausing before Merritt, smiling, finally placing his thumb on the boy’s forehead and saying the Latin words for “From ashes to ashes.”

Merritt sensed a strange communication arising from the priest, focusing obviously upon him. Did the priest thumb linger just a bit longer on Merritt’s forehead than it did on the others also kneeling at the rail, he wondered. The altar boy got a “knowing look” on his face. As the pair passed on to the next parishioner, the altar boy leaned over slightly to Merritt and whispered something almost inaudible.

Did he say “sissy?” Merritt wondered.

That thought shattered Merritt’s sweet dream, bringing him back to reality.

*****
The following day, after Merritt returned from school, he received a phone call from Father Mulcahy.

“Merritt, I'm so happy I reached you, my boy,” the priest's voice was soft and lilting, almost like he was singing.

“Yes, father,” he said, wondering why the priest was calling.

“Merritt I have been observing you in church recently, and you always did so well in Sunday school,” he began.

“Yes, father.”

“And you look so very pious.”

“Yes, father,” Merritt's was becoming concerned as to where this was all headed.

“Do you know what an acolyte is?” the priest asked.

“Well, I guess it's like an altar boy, only more so,” he said.

“I guess you could say that,” Father Mulcahy said, his sing-songy lilt growing even more pronounced.

“Only it's like an assistant to the priest, someone who knows the sacraments and can help the priest out in many chores,” he added. “I'm hoping you'd consider trying out for that. I've got several boys in mind, but you always seemed to be so involved in our Sunday school classes, I immediately thought of you. Sadly, not many of our altar boys have ever taken an interest in this.”

“But, father,” Merritt said. “I've never even been an altar boy. You know, I go to public schools, and all the altar boys go to St. Pat's.”

“I know that, and I wondered why you never attended here.”

“We never had the money, father,” he responded.

“Well, that's a shame. What do you think about this? I'm interviewing several boys and I'd like to talk to you about it. Maybe next week, Wednesday, after school in the rectory?”

“Oh I don't know, father, I've got school and my job.”

“Well think about it son,” the priest said. “I'd so like you to join us here. You'd be a great help to me, my boy.”

Merritt agreed he'd talk to his mother about it, and let him know the next day. He hung up, wondering what prompted the priest's sudden interest in him. He almost sounded desperate, Merritt thought, in the way he pleaded with him to become his acolyte.

As he changed into his work clothes, Merritt began laughing outloud, even though he was alone. “If I was to be in a religious order,” he giggled, “It’d be the Sisters of St. Francis.”

He put a towel over his head, as if to mimic a nun’s habit, and smiled.

Evelyn was not enthusiastic about Father Mulcahy’s request, wondering whether Merritt truly had any “calling” for being religious. While Evelyn and Merritt had been regular mass-goers, it had not been with any great conviction as to the belief in the being deeply penitent.

“Do you really want to do this, Merritt?” she asked after he told her of the call from Father Mulcahy.

“I don’t know, mom, but Father Mulcahy sounds like he really wants me.”

“Well, you’ve always liked him, honey, but how much time would it take?”

“He said that he’d need me for Tuesday night devotions, to work with the Altar Society on Fridays and one mass on Sunday.”

“You’re so busy now with your job and school, honey, but if you wish to try it out, I guess it’s OK.”

Merritt agreed he’d accept Father Mulcahy’s invitation and interview for the position, but he felt he’d get the position since it sounded like he was the priest’s favorite. Besides, he felt, maybe this is a step to be accepted better as a boy.

*****
The six weeks of Lent — in which he never once wore a piece of girl’s clothing — became agony for Merritt. So often, he would see a girl, dressed simply in her school uniform, and so wished it was himself, going to school as a cute girl. He pictured himself in every gown he fashioned in the workshop at the rear of Swenson’s Shop; it was prom season, and he was sewing numerous gowns for girls at the high schools in town, and he dreamed of looking pretty and dainty in them while be twirled about the dance floor in the arms of the school’s star football player. And, why shouldn’t Marilyn have the hottest boy in school; she was, after all, the prettiest and most feminine of all the girls.

He lived through the Lenten period concentrating on his school work, taking his tennis lessons on Saturday morning seriously and trying mightily to act more masculine.

Still he was tagged as a sissy as often as before. He was pushed around in the hallways at school and snickered at time and again. He was still misidentified as a girl by store clerks and casual persons he’d meet on the street. And, he still hated his gym classes, where he continued to be scoffed at and humiliated due to his general physical weakness.

He cried many nights, alternately wishing he could be a girl, and then cursing the fate that gave him such a feminine demeanor, but with the anatomy of a male. “I am a girl,” he cried as he tossed and turned in his bed, awaiting sleep that was slow to come.

“No,” he’d argue with himself. “I am a boy and I will live as a boy and a man.”

Then he’d pray that God would provide him with the strength to become the boy and man. Did God ever listen to his prayers, he wondered.

*****
Surprising even himself, at the completion of the Saturday tennis classes in March, Merritt was named to the varsity tennis team. In truth, there wasn’t much competition for the team, since tennis was never a big sport at Riverdale, but Coach Lawson had been working hard to revitalize the sport at the school.

“You made the team,” Wayne Buttridge, a tall, lanky youth yelled to Merritt as he entered the locker room for the last Saturday morning session.

“I did?” Merritt said. “Really?”

“I told you that you would, Merritt,” the boy said. “You worked so hard at it, and Coach likes that.”

“But I’m not very good,” he said.

“Oh yes, you are, except that your serves are too weak, but you can work on that,” Buttridge said.

He was the senior captain of the team, and its No. 1 singles player. Merritt had grown to like the boy, who was fun to play with. Merritt always lost the set, but was able to win a few games along the way, and always forcing the star player to work for his points. The boy was the first to say “good shot” or to praise a crafty dump that Merritt had perfected in fooling his tennis foes.

Six boys didn’t make the team, and they were assigned to the JV squad. One of them, a tall, blond headed know-it-all loved to bully Merritt, calling him “fairy” or “queer” whenever he could. Things got worse when Merritt beat him in short head-to-head matches, forcing the Coach to draw the boy aside and caution him on his behavior. That didn’t stop the snide comments he’d make in whispers to Merritt in the locker room.

Merritt couldn’t wait to tell Donna Mae about his selection to the team, since she had introduced him to the game years before.

Merritt and Donna Mae, often with Edith there as well, made it a practice to meet on Fridays after school at Morgan’s Sweet Shoppe for ice cream sodas. He loved these sessions, often turning into giggling and trying to “one-up” each other with wise remarks. Merritt realized that he was just one of the girls in these sessions, and often other girls joined the group.

Occasionally, the tennis bully would also be in the ice cream shop, and would saunter by, making a snide remark at Merritt for being “girly,” but Donna Mae was always quick to respond, sometimes with a remark similar to: “What’s a matter? You scared of us girls? Be a man and join us.”

Normally the boy, taken aback at the sharp response, would slink off; occasionally a boy might make a remark like, “Well if I was a girl like Merritt, I would.”

Then Edith would pitch in with a comment, such as: “You’re not good enough to join us.”

Merritt had grown used to these situations, but never could get over the momentary humiliation they caused. But the fact was he felt right at home with the girls.

As the war had progressed, ice cream had become harder and harder to get, largely because the milk content had to be reduced, apparently due to food demands on the war front. In recent months, there was no vanilla ice cream, and soda and sundaes were made with pineapple sherbet, as a substitute for vanilla.

“You’re in luck today, girls,” announced Morgan, the rotund shop owner, “We’ve got a shipment of real ice cream.”

With that, Edith, sitting next to Merritt, poked him playfully. “He only sees girls here,” she chided.

Merritt smiled, feeling somewhat strange about the whole situation, but pleased nonetheless that he was apparently seen as a girl, always sitting in the midst of a group of girls, his longish hair and pretty face.

*****
“I heard you made the tennis team,” Donna Mae commented as he along with Edith began the walk home.

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” he said, still pleased that he was good enough.

“I told you that you’d do it, Marilyn,” she said, teasing him a bit with using his girl’s name.

“I would have been happy to make the girls’ team,” he said, joining in the fun.

“Well, you’re not that good!” Donna Mae said, with a laugh.

It was true, he still lost his matches against Donna Mae; but then, she was No. 1 singles player for the Our Lady of the Angels Academy team.

“I’m proud of you,” Edith said, grabbing his arm as the walked home in the gathering dusk of a late March afternoon, their breath crystallizing in the cold temperatures.

“Thanks,” he said.

“When Lent’s done next month, will you start being Marilyn again,” Edith asked. “I miss her.”

“I do, too,” he said, having grown comfortable sharing his deepest thoughts with both of the girls who had proven they could be trusted to keep a confidence. And, the two girls also shared that view of Merritt, who kept to himself all of the stories the girls told about their boy friends. Both Donna Mae and Edith had developed “up and down” relationships with their boy friends.

“Yes, Merritt, is Marilyn buried for now?” Donna Mae persisted.

“I think so,” he said. “Mom and Uncle Frank have been after me to stop.”

“Uncle Frank?” Edith queried. “What’s he got to do with it?”

“He just got discharged from the Army, and he’s living with us for a while.”

“That’s your mother’s brother, right?” she asked.

“Yes, he was injured pretty badly in France, and has problems walking,” Merritt explained. “I think they’re worried I won’t get a job unless I get a bit stronger and all that. Besides, I’ll have to go in the service if this war continues longer.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, Marilyn’s so pretty,” Donna Mae lamented.